


coffee smell and lilac skin

by sylwrites



Series: break free and run [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Breakfast, College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylwrites/pseuds/sylwrites
Summary: Bughead College AU.Betty stops to make breakfast for Jughead and his father.





	

_ My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder... _

  
  


Although there is bright sunlight streaming through a window onto his face, it is ultimately the incessant buzzing of a cell phone that wakes Jughead on a Saturday morning in mid-September.

 

He rolls to his right side, reaching his hand out blindly for the offending device. Finding it after a few aimless attempts, Jughead opens one eye and slides his thumb across to answer the call, too tired to read the caller ID first. “Hello?”

 

“Juggie? I’m at your apartment door. Let me in!”

 

Jughead’s brain was not yet fully functioning. A quick look at the glowing numbers of the digital clock beside his bed told him that it was 9:00 am, a full two hours before he intended to be awake. “Betty?” he groans.

 

“Yes! Are you gonna let me in?”

 

He sits up, yawning. “Sure, yeah, just one sec, Betts. I’ll be right there.”

 

“Okay!” she chirps, and hangs up. Jughead stares at his phone for a second, confused, then gets up and pulls on pajama pants and a t-shirt. He tugs his beanie over his hair and trudges out to the hallway.

 

His father’s door is still shut, so Jughead knows that he’s still asleep (and of course he is, what reasonable person was  _ up  _ at this time, honestly). He suppresses a yawn and goes to the apartment door, opening it to reveal Betty and her bright morning smile, a grocery bag in each hand.

 

“Hi Juggie! Your neighbour let me into the building, I didn’t want to buzz and wake up your dad,” she says, cheerfully brushing past him into the apartment.

 

Jughead raises an eyebrow in amusement, closing the door behind her. “But you didn’t mind waking  _ me  _ up, obviously.” He watches as she sets the bags on the countertop and begins to unpack them. “What are you doing up?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He appraises her appearance briefly: running shoes, athletic shorts, some kind of spandex-y-looking top with more criss-crossing straps at the back than Jughead can follow, and her signature ponytail. 

 

“I wanted to go for a run,” she explains. “But Veronica is in New York visiting her mom and I got lonely at the dorm, so I figured, I’ll go for a little run around the park first, then come make you and your dad breakfast.”

 

_ She’s too good,  _ is Jughead’s immediate thought, but that’s been one of his primary thoughts about Betty for a long time now. “Betts, you don’t have to do that,” he says softly, leaning against the counter beside her. “My dad and I can fend for ourselves.”

 

Betty looks at him suddenly, her already big blue eyes wide with a tension that Jughead instantly recognizes - fear that she’d offended him. “Oh Juggie, I know!” she says, grabbing his wrist. “I didn’t mean - I  _ want  _ to.”

 

Jughead covers her hand with his, unwrapping her tight grip and pressing his palm into hers instead. “Hey, believe me, we love eating your cooking, Betty.” He flicks the end of her ponytail playfully. “I just don’t want you to feel like we’re your responsibility.”

 

He says  _ we,  _ but Jughead means  _ him -  _ FP, his father, a recovering alcoholic, and they both know it. For years, Jughead had hid his family’s problems from his best friends. He’s sure that Archie and Betty probably could have guessed that something was going on, at least in the beginning and especially at the end, but the in-between was peppered with so many ups and downs and reversals that it made it hard to keep track of his own life. 

 

Truthfully, Jughead wasn’t really sure how it had happened. His father being laid off was certainly a catalyst, sure, but if he was looking back with honesty, maybe it had never truly began anywhere. Maybe FP had always had the demon inside him, an addiction waiting to happen. A dream, waiting to be broken. All Jughead knew was that one day, he had a family, and the next his mother was gone, Jellybean was gone, and Jughead was sleeping in the projection booth at the Twilight Drive-In.

 

Archie, his dad, and Betty had saved him then. Jughead would never be able to forget the sadness in Betty’s expressive eyes when she’d broken down in his arms, begging his forgiveness.   _ Apologizing,  _ unbelievably enough, for not noticing the secret he’d tried desperately to protect, for not asking about his tired eyes, or pressing him on every obvious lie. He was ashamed of his family, of his living situation, and of himself - the last person he’d wanted to know about his dad was  _ Betty. _

 

It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her, or he thought she’d judge him. No; quite the contrary. She was probably the only person he truly did trust. But she was also the kind of person that puts others first and herself last, a quality of which he's seen the desperate consequences firsthand. He’d wanted to protect her from more sleepless nights, tears, and worry. But she'd found out about him and his dad anyway, and like he’d known she would, she took care of him.

 

And here she was, still doing it.

 

“I don't! Plus, I found a new recipe for blueberry pancakes, and I figured who better to try it out on?” Betty smiles, squeezing his hand before pulling away to finish unloading the groceries. 

 

Jughead’s mouth waters as the building blocks of pancakes appear on his counter. Flour, sugar, water, butter. Eggs. And then - bacon, sausages, and potatoes. “You're the best, Betty,” he declares, reaching around her and kissing her cheek. He squeezes her hip as he pulls away, smiling at her. “Gonna go brush my teeth and get dressed. You okay for a few minutes?”

 

“Sure, Jug,” Betty says with a sweet smile, the smile Jughead loves. Hell, he loves basically everything about her - but her smile is his favourite. She turns away and grabs a bowl, assembling the ingredients for pancake batter. Jughead watches her for a moment and then slips down the hallway to brush his teeth and pull on clothes. 

 

When he returns, Betty has bacon frying and a stack of pancakes that is already five deep. Jughead successfully steals a piece of bacon, dodging Betty's attempt to swat his hand away with a cheeky grin, then hops up to sit on the counter.

 

“Y’know, you could make coffee,” Betty suggests, fixing Jughead with an amused expression. “Though I appreciate the supervision.”

 

_ Duh. Manners, Jughead,  _ he reminds himself. “On it,” he tells Betty, and slides off the counter. “Sorry,” he adds apologetically.

 

Betty just gives him another of her sweet smiles, the one that means  _ it’s okay.  _ Jughead could write a book on her facial expressions by this point. The way her eyes narrow when she’s annoyed, the crinkle of her nose when she’s amused but shouldn’t laugh, the slight upturn in the corners of her lips when she’s happy but feels a little guilty about it. 

 

Betty was one of those people who had always been there, a constant presence in his life ever since she’d tagged along with his funny new redheaded friend at kindergarten playtime. She was, without question, the best person he knew, in every way that mattered. Betty was beautiful, of course, but she was also smart, courageous, and kind. He’s not entirely sure  _ when  _ he fell in love with her, only able to conclude that it was probably one of those things that, much like Betty herself, was always just  _ there.  _

 

For years, she’d pined after their mutual best friend, Archie. Jughead considered Archie to be his brother, unequivocally. His father had taken Jughead in when he’d had nobody else, and Archie and Betty were his truest and only friends for a long time. He loved Archie like family. That said, Archie was a bit of a dick, in Jughead’s opinion. He loved girls - all girls - and girls loved him and his ginger charm. Not even Betty was immune to that. He watched Betty be sad over him going out with other girls, then watched Betty be happy that Archie finally chose her, then watched her be sad again when they’d mutually broken up. (Jughead didn’t like that Betty was unhappy, of course, but he’d be lying if he said a small part of him hadn’t been happy about the breakup. Even putting aside his own feelings for Betty - she could do much better than Archie, in his opinion. Hell, she could do better than him, too.)

 

Jughead puts a new filter in the coffee maker and scoops some ground coffee beans into it. He catches Betty's eye as he presses the button to begin brewing. And then - a new expression: she  _ blushes.  _ Okay sure, he's seen her blush a million times, but not at  _ him,  _ and never from something as simple as eye contact. As Betty flips another pancake onto her growing pile, she bites her lower lip. He watches her release it, darker pink than before, and for a moment he’s paralyzed.

 

They haven't talked about the kiss, the one he'd given her after dinner two weeks prior. Afterward, he'd spent the thirty or so minutes it took to walk from her place to his in sheer panic that he'd done something really stupid. Like maybe he'd ruined everything, she'd never speak to him again, and one of the only truly good things in his life was now lost forever. 

 

Betty was not one of those people that took forever to text someone back, having been conditioned by years of her aggressive parents demanding constant communication, so Jughead knew that if she had been uncomfortable it’d be easy to tell. But she’d called him later like usual, and he’d sworn her voice was a little sweeter. As it turned out, he hadn't ruined everything, but nor did anything progress further than that. Which was fine with Jughead for now - the way he figured, it took years to even admit his feelings for Betty to himself, let alone her. He was prepared for it to unravel itself slowly, like the remains of a dandelion catching the wind piece by piece.

 

Still,  _ blushing -  _ this was new.

 

He leans closer to her to smell the pancakes, placing a steadying hand on her hip. “That smells so great, Betty,” Jughead tells her, his thumb very slightly rubbing an exposed strip of skin. He swears that he sees her ears turn a little pink and takes a second to memorize this moment, where  _ he,  _ Jughead Jones, makes Betty Cooper blush. Jughead then steps past her to grab the maple syrup from the fridge, considering it a small miracle that he and his dad even have any before realizing that Betty had just brought it with her. He notes that it’s regular Aunt Jemima brand,  _ not  _ the Blossoms’, and is about to make a comment to Betty when his he hears a door open in the hallway.

 

His dad appears around the corner in the doorway of the kitchen, his hair sticking up in the back the same way that Jughead’s also did. FP doesn’t even look fazed to see Betty in his kitchen - it’s happened a few times since they’d all moved to Boston, and even when she wasn’t at the Jones apartment, FP was still the regular beneficiary of Betty’s leftover cooking.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Jones!” Betty greets cheerfully, smiling at Jughead’s dad over her shoulder before turning back to the stove, where she’s cracking eggs.

 

“Morning, Betty. I thought something smelled good,” FP comments, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “I should’ve known it wasn’t just my boy in here.”

 

Jughead flips his dad off. “I can make the hell out of some macaroni and cheese, Dad.”

 

FP snorts in amusement and takes a step closer, peering over Betty’s shoulder and noticing the stack of blueberry pancakes and plate of bacon.  _ “Bacon,”  _ he says hungrily. “Jughead, you need to marry this girl.”

 

Jughead steals another piece of bacon and flashes a sheepish grin at Betty when she gives him a scolding look. He pokes her hip and then looks at his dad. “I tried! I asked her the first time she made me those cinnamon twists with the cream cheese dip, but she blew me off. Sure, we we were twelve, but Betts, I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he adds with extra melodrama.

 

Betty giggles and flips an egg over. “You guys are living proof that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Juggie, will you please hand me a plate for these eggs?”

 

Jughead obeys, then retrieves three more empty plates and cutlery. He passes them to his father, following him to the dining area with the pancakes and syrup while Betty finishes up the eggs in the kitchen. He’s setting the stack down on the small table when his dad speaks, his voice low but casual.

 

“Y’know Jug, I’m only half-kidding. About...” FP nods his head in the direction of the kitchen.

 

Jughead gives his dad a look. He’s always avoided talking about Betty with his dad. FP has always said that he only wants his son to have the best, to do better than he did - to be  _ happy.  _ Jughead believes that he means it, because FP always  _ means  _ everything. It’s his behaviour - and subsequently their relationship - that is sadly inconsistent. Jughead was accustomed to excluding his dad from the critically important things in his life, the ones he  _ can’t  _ fuck up - including his friendships, and now, his  _ whatever it is  _ with Betty. 

 

“I know, Dad,” Jughead says, the tone of his voice communicating that the subject is off-limits. He goes back to the kitchen to help Betty with the rest, but is stopped in his tracks when he sees her.

 

She’s trying to balance the plates of eggs and bacon in one hand while grabbing the plate of breakfast sausages with the other, but the bacon is teetering precariously on her forearm and she has the most adorable expression of mild panic on her face. Betty looks up when he enters, her lip drawn between her teeth. “Jug--”

 

“I got it,” he says, stepping to her immediately and grabbing the plate. “Looks like I just saved your bacon.” Jughead waits a second, then grins.

 

Betty snorts, shaking her head at him. “You’re so lame,” she declares, wrinkling her nose at a stray lock of hair that has escaped from her usually impeccable ponytail and has fallen across her face.

 

Instinctively he reaches out and tucks it behind her ear. Betty seems surprised, and her face tenses for a second. Jughead runs his thumb across her cheek gently, relaxing it, and it’s not until he hears her exhale that he realizes he isn’t breathing either. Her deep blue eyes are searching his, and when she smiles at him he can’t stop himself from returning it. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Is that bacon coming?!”

 

His father’s voice jars Jughead from his reverie, and he drops his hand from Betty’s face. “Yeah, Dad,” he calls, finally tearing his eyes away from Betty’s. He lets her pass him and follows her to the table, setting the bacon in front of his father. Betty sits down in a chair as Jughead runs back to get mugs and the coffee pot, and as he slides a mug in front of her he can’t stop himself from squeezing her shoulder.

 

She smiles her thanks at him, and he’s gone all over again. Some kind of weird warmth fills his chest, and Jughead drops his eyes to his coffee mug.

 

Happiness was really going to ruin his aesthetic.

  
  



End file.
